Oh the Sheriff had a fit,
Trying figure out where Megee was hit,
When he died at the age of 23.
Because he’d been shot clean through,
Bending over and tying his shoe.
LOL-LOL
Nobody knew where he came from
They only knew he came in
Slowly he walked to the end of the bar
And he ordered up one slug of gin
Well, I could see that he wasn’t a large man
I could tell that he wasn’t too tall
I judged him to be ‘bout five foot three
And his voice was a soft Texas drawl
Snip
He cussed once or twice in a whisper
And he said with a snarl on his lips
Nobody’s Mister to me, little man
And he grabbed for the gun on his hips
But the little man’s hands was like lightning
The bass forty-four was the same
The forty-four spoke and it sent lead and smoke
And seventeen inches of flame
For the big one had never cleared leather
Beaten before he could start
A little round hole had appeared on his shirt
The bullet went clear through his heart
Snip
Here’s the lyrics to the whole song, “Mr. Shorty” by Marty Robins:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/mr-shorty-lyrics-marty-robbins.html